“Where did you meet him? And who are you?”
“I met him somewhere. It doesn’t matter who I am. But I dare to testify that he was indeed a good person.”
“Oh, hopefully…”
A similar story was also vaguely told. One day, on the outskirts of town, a woman died. Only a handful of people cared to mourn. Most of them were her family. Apparently, the woman who died was known to be a prostitute. People were hesitant to attend. Men were afraid of being suspected of using her services. Women feared being considered her peers.
But there she was, the silhouette-like figure, present as a mourner. The family of the deceased was surprised that a strange woman came to mourn.
“Were you her friend?” asked one of the deceased woman’s relatives.
“Yes, I was her friend,” she answered, nodding slowly.
The questioner nodded slowly in return, smiling knowingly.
“Where did you meet her? And who are you?”
“I met her somewhere. It doesn’t matter who I am. But I dare to testify that she was indeed a good person.”
“Yes, yes, hopefully…”